


Too Young

by writingtwentyfour



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Beards (Relationships), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I think that’s it, Light Angst, Louis leaves Harry, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sad Ending, Sort of? - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Unrequited Love, again sort of?, also sort of, but hey, harrys heartbroken, i dont know how to tag im sorry, im sorry, its short? so it won't hurt for too long yeah?, its unintentional, maybe a little of, some - Freeform, thats probably obvious though innit?, the boys kind of side with louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtwentyfour/pseuds/writingtwentyfour
Summary: A short story about Louis falling in love with his beard and absolutely shattering Harry’s heart in the process.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	Too Young

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the tags, this story contains suicidal themes and death by suicide, as well as major character death. If any of that could trigger you, please think before you read this book. It's important to me that I don’t harm anyone else’s mental health by writing this. 
> 
> That being said, if you do decide to read this, I hope you enjoy it and I’m very glad you're giving it a chance :) 
> 
> {also, I in no way wrote this to insult or say anything about Eleanor or her character; it's just how the story works and I didn't write it to give my opinion on her or hurt her}

**_i._ **

They were in love, so, so in love.

It was six long years of the best moments of their lives. It was the meeting for the first time and slowly developing feelings. It was the awkward interactions that came with those growing feelings; the embarrassment every time their bandmates teased a little too loud about their crush that was sitting on the couch against the other wall in the shared dressing room before a concert. It was the giddy feeling in the bottom of their tummies that never _really_ went away. How everyone knew how far gone the two boys were for each other; how blind you’d have to be to not be able to see it.  
  
Of course, Harry and Louis were blind at first. They tiptoed around their feelings, making painfully obvious excuses when something that resembled remarkably close to that of jealousy trickled across one of their features at the sound of the other even _objectively_ mentioning that a random bloke they had come across had been reasonably fit. They justified the way they would cuddle up to each other a little bit more than the other boys; how there’d always just been something between the two of them that just _fit_ , clicked. They brushed off the blushes that appeared on both their faces when someone commented on how _cute_ they were together, chalking it down to just the cold weather that made their faces heat up at the idea. They ignored the fact that their dreams consisted of waking up to the other; that their pining wasn’t just one-sided.

But eventually, when they were able to put their feelings into words, it was the random sweet nothings at 3 am while they lay in bed together. It was the important promises that were meant to be kept forever. It was the small smiles, and giggles, and secret glances when they thought no one else was watching or listening. It was the resounding, high pitched laughs, and the hilarious cackling the two were oh so fond of whenever a bad joke was made or one of them tripped head over arse on absolutely nothing but their senselessness (usually Harry).

It was the late-night movies when their hands would not-so-accidently touch in the popcorn. It was the early morning cuddling when they were just a little more clingy than usual, or the late-night cry sessions when it had just been a tough week.

It was knowing everything about each other, every small secret, every embarrassing moment, everything they loved and hated: how they took their tea (Yorkshire, black, with absolutely NO sugar and a couple drops of milk); how the little space between their eyebrows would furrow just slightly when they were upset and trying not to show it, only noticeable if you were in love with them. It was when they were the only ones that could comfort the other. When they came into their shared bedroom crying to each other after a small fight, apologizing and promising to never have another argument again.

It was when they made love for the first time.

And second.

And hundredth.

It was complete and utter infatuation, the kind of love-sick feeling that only few were capable of truly experiencing in their long lives. Or short ones.

But after six long years of the best moments of their lives, it ended. Abruptly (or not abruptly depending on which side you were viewing from). But it ended.

And sure, everyone knows that young love never lasts.

Except these two didn’t.

Possibly the worst part though, was that Harry never saw it coming. And eventually, neither did Louis.

_**ii.** _

Maybe it was over when they had their first _big_ fight, the kind of fight couples- not matter how utterly in love- don’t come back from. Maybe it was over when Louis kept spending time with Eleanor even when he didn’t need to. Or maybe it was over the day the young boyfriends let go of their secret and finally told management.

Because Louis had been _so sure_. He was so confident about the choice, that it was the right decision, and nothing could go wrong. And oh, how terribly, horribly, completely, wholly and absolutely wrong he was.

The day when they walked into the conference room holding hands with beaming smiles on their faces may have been the day it all ended, or at least when it started to.

Louis and Harry had walked into the room with a long rounded wooded table and swivel chairs, excited and relieved to finally not have to be keeping a secret so big anymore: that they were in love with a boy- each other- and they were proud about it. As they should be.

But management didn’t see it that way. They saw red when Louis and Harry came clean. In a matter of minutes there was screaming and yelling, papers flying, and a young curly headed boy crying in the corner while the feathery, brown-headed boy held him against his chest, protecting him from the evil in the world, or in this case, their bosses.

Their management had come up with plenty of ideas, solutions to a ‘problem’. Not a relationship, not love, a ‘problem’. They suggested they break up. That was a screamed, broken, “NO!” from a still sobbing Harry, and a calmer, but definitely distinct and sharp, “Fuck no,” from Louis, that left no room for arguing.

Eventually they had suggested a beard. Someone to pretend to be Louis’ girlfriend. So the world would never know.

And eventually, Louis and Harry had agreed (Harry much more hesitantly so, not that Louis in any way was excited about the decision either). But it was their only option, because ‘gay didn’t sell’. What bull-fucking-shit.

But Harry and Louis listened anyway. They were too young, too isolated, too uninformed and oblivious to understand that maybe, just maybe, they really did have a choice. But in their early twenties and after being shoved into the spotlight at such a young age, they didn’t understand that, and so Louis now had a public-only girlfriend.

-

Enter Eleanor Calder. Golden brown hair to her shoulders, flawless skin, and a petite body that any guy would probably pay for, and any girl would definitely kill for. Harry hated her. Hated seeing her with Louis, watching her flirt even though she knew Louis was supposed to be off-limits.

Louis assured Harry that he was still the love of the slightly older boy’s life. He assured Harry that he was never going to leave, and definitely not fall for _girl_ he was forced to pretend to love.

Harry really tried to believe that.

_**iii.** _

Their “dates” started out sparse. Louis and Eleanor would make front cover headlines just by reluctantly holding hands, a scowl on one of their faces (always Louis’), while they walked out from a coffee shop or movie theater and straight into a black SUV with tinted windows. Straight into the cover of privacy where Louis could pull himself out of Eleanor’s grip and sit as far away from her as possible.

After every “date” Louis would make his way home to see young and hurting Harry sitting curled up in a chair in one of Louis’ hoodies. Louis would walk in cooing at the sweet boy and hold him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and playing with his curls while he promised he loved the boy in his arms, and not the girl he had just been out to lunch with, not Eleanor.

As time went on, the “dates” became more frequent. The front covers of magazines of the new ‘it couple’ looked less forced and staged, and more friendly and relaxed, to the point where it looked like something _more_.

That’s when Harry and Louis had their first big fight, the kind that threatens every type of relationship, one prompted by the green ugly giant that likes to push people to their breaking points: _jealousy_. Harry had finally had enough of his aching heart after seeing pap after pap, and he confronted Louis. It had started off gentle- as gentle as a fight can be at least. Louis tried to be calm about it, _gently_ telling Harry he was being crazy.

But Harry couldn’t take that as an answer, his brain didn’t believe it. His heart was breaking even though he was told, _promised_ , it didn’t need to, and he didn’t know what to do. Which is why in twenty minutes they were both screaming at each other, Harry with tears spilling down his face and Louis yelling a stream of curse words at the boy, which inevitably led to Harry being called a jealous whore over and over again by the love of his life.

That’s when Harry started to break- and the fight wasn’t even resolved. Louis had just leapt at him and pressed their lips together roughly, giving Harry no place for protest. In seconds their clothes were on the floor and Louis was throwing Harry onto the bed, eventually fucking into the boy roughly while Louis ignored his problems and Harry tried to ignore the ache in his heart. The ache that was still there as he was thoroughly fucked into the mattress by the boy he’d been loving for six years.

Harry thought that fight was it. Nothing like it would happen again and it was just one bad night. He was wrong.

The next time it happened they had barely fought for five minutes before Louis was again yelling degrading phrases at the sobbing boy and grabbing him roughly, manhandling him into their bed to fuck him into the mattress again, or maybe against the wall. And Harry took it, because at least he was getting _something_ , something that Eleanor wasn’t. Or at least something she wasn’t getting _right in that moment._ Harry wasn’t entirely sure anymore if that logic could be applied to when it was just Louis and Eleanor around each other without a Harry in sight.

It happened over and over, and every time Harry was fucked into the mattress- no longer being made love to but being used as an object instead, a vice, something to keep him quiet, like he was a _chore_ for Louis- his heart broke over and over. Sobs would escape his lips when he woke up alone because Louis had a “date” that was looking more and more like just like a date, one Louis insisted he must attend.

Sometimes the boys would come over and comfort him, Niall giving him a tight hug and offering to take his mind off it by playing FIFA with him, Liam cooking him a meal and smiling almost pitifully at the boy, and Zayn trying to convince Harry that nothing was wrong and Eleanor actually was a sweet girl.

That should have been the first red flag for the curly headed boy. Because gradually, Niall stopped showing up, Liam stopped cooking him food, and instead of assuring Harry about Eleanor, Zayn was talking about how great she was and how much fun they had the last time they went out together. How she was the most amazing girl and any guy would be lucky to have her.

That night was also the first night Harry had gone to sleep alone, no Louis in his bed to comfort him and tell him sweet nothings, whispering promises into his ear and running his hands through the boy’s curls. He still never hadn’t gotten a straight answer on where Louis had been that night.

_**iv.** _

Harry started to distance himself. He knew his life was changing and not in the way he wanted, so he hid himself away, promising his little heart he wouldn’t be the reason for his own heart break even if it wasn’t something he could control anyway. And the boys didn’t even notice. He barely saw Louis as it was, constantly away on some kind of outing with the girl who might have been stealing his love, and Liam, Niall, and Zayn stopped coming around as much. What might have hurt more was they stopped agreeing with Harry on how terrible Eleanor was for coming between Harry and Louis in any way, and instead talking about how _perfect_ she was, chastising Harry for daring to say one bad thing about the angel that is Eleanor.

But what hurt the _most_ , more than anything Harry had ever felt, was when Louis finally admitted what Harry had been terrified of forever. _He was in love with Eleanor Calder._

The day Louis really admitted that, told the whole world, was when Harry died inside completely. Yes, he’d been deteriorating away for months, but when the words were actually put into the universe for anyone with access to his phone to see, he shattered.

He had sobbed into his pillow when he had received a single text from Louis, one that contained the heart wrenching words he had been waiting for.

_‘I’m in love with Eleanor and I never loved you.’_

That was it. That was all he got. No ‘I love you’, no ‘I’m sorry’, not even a call. Ten words in a text from the boy he’d given his everything to for six years, and it was gone. And he couldn’t even do anything about it. He felt sick.

What broke him even more though, something that was like taking a bat to an already shattered, broken body, was when Louis felt the need to tweet about it. Not _about_ it per say- because he wasn’t confirming it- but in reference to it.

So September 12, 2016 is when Louis pulled, _ripped_ , Harry Styles’ heart out of its chest, even after he had already shattered it, broken it into pieces that could never be taped or glued and molded back together.

_‘Hows this , Larry is the biggest_

_load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I’m happy_

_why can't you accept that.’_

_**v.** _

Harry tried so hard to keep going. He tried so hard to fight through it and tell his heart he could find someone else, someone better; someone who would love him truly, like how he heard in fairy tales. He tried over and over again, but no one was there. Everyone around him- everyone in the band, everyone he had to surround himself with- they weren’t there anymore. Liam, Niall, and Zayn stopped trying to help eventually, and Louis wouldn’t even look at him. In the rare event that he _did_ , it was a look full of resent and disgust, a look that made Harry unwillingly sob.

And he just couldn’t _understand_ ; how had Louis gone from showering Harry with unspeakable, relentless, and never-ending love, passion, and affection, to looking at him like it revolted and appalled Louis to even think of the boy? How could all of that just _disappear?_

Harry went through quite possibly every coping mechanism you learn about in Psych-101: Sleeping his pain away- drinking an unhealthy, copious amount of coffee to make up for the lack of sleep; substance abuse- using so much coke his nose always had a constant burn to it; using humor to mask his pain, because: "That which does not kill you gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a really dark sense of humor.1"; denial; refusing to eat more than one meal a day and puking up whatever he _did_ have when he got back to his hotel room; drinking. That last one wasn’t much help though, because Harry was already dead inside way before he put that first bottle to his lips anyway.

So, Harry distanced himself completely. He stopped talking to all four of the boys, not that they really even noticed. Or cared. Or tried to help him; to save him.

He spent his time observing, watching as Louis held Eleanor to him everywhere the band went, treating her just like he did Harry, before everything went to absolute fucking shit. He watched as Louis beamed, his eyes crinkling whenever he was around the certain girl. He watched as he was forgotten, just a backdrop in his best friends’ new lives.

He showed up still, though. He went to interviews, spoke when it was required, and made small talk with who it was needed for. He sung at concerts- barely- but he did it. He took pictures with fans and pretended everything was okay, even when the teenage girls and boys could see the tears welling in his now dull, olive green eyes as he stared at his _ex_.

He kept on for months until he couldn’t anymore. He thought maybe he should just quit the band; he wasn’t really even contributing to it anymore. Maybe he should run away and hide himself forever, from everyone who didn’t even care anyway.

The nail in the coffin was when Harry was yet again scrolling through Google and his Twitter. He did it often, when he was missing the love of his life a little extra, or he was just so broken all he wanted was to cry himself to sleep while he read the tweets and posts. 

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he typed into the search bar. His heart hammered heavily in his chest as he pressed enter, and when the results popped up, his heart ached more, and he wanted to cry and scream and smile all at the same time.

There on the screen sat the love of his life and himself, happy as ever and no idea of what was to come.

Every photo, every edit, every manip, fanfiction, song, all about the unconfirmed relationship between two boys- it broke Harry. It was like a punch in the gut and a kick in the face at the same time. He ached. Everywhere, he ached. Sobs escaped the boy’s lips as he scrolled.

And then he did what he shouldn’t. What Liam had repeatedly told him was off limits before he had stopped talking to him, stopping _caring_.

He changed from his laptop to his phone, opening the Twitter app and watching as the iconic white bird filled the baby blue screen. He directed himself to the right page, typing in what he wanted and pressing search without another thought.

  
**_Elounor_ **

Harry let out a shaky breath as every post, every tweet, filled his timeline. Each phrase- every letter- hurt, physically hurt, to read. The hundreds of pictures of the couple. The thousands of words dedicated to Harry’s existence, _telling him to end it_. Every comment was nearly identical if it was addressed to the helpless curly headed boy and broken rockstar.

_Larry was never real **#elounorisreal**_

_Harry is disgusting, he doesn’t deserve to be loved **#elounorforever #fucklarry**_

_He should just leave, obviously nobody cares about him anyway **#elounor #fourdirection**_

_Harry probably tried to turn Louis gay, he's repulsive, Louis’ obviously straight **#elounor #harrysgay**_

_I don’t know why Louis even puts up with him, he’s so dumb and he can't even sing, everybody knows that **#elounor #harrysvoicesucksdicklikehim**_

_**#elounor** is the best couple ever, who could’ve ever thought Larry was actually real??_

_Harry is worthless and nobody likes listening to him anyway **#elounor #larrysbullshit2016 #louissays**_

And at this point, Harry agreed with them. He knew it was all true, every statement, every hatred filled word and condemning phrase. He agreed wholeheartedly. And why not? Who would really miss him?

Everyone had made it perfectly clear that they wouldn’t. And his mom could live without him. Maybe she’d be sad, but she’d get over it. He rarely even got to see Gemma anymore, so really nothing would be changing. Besides those two, no one mattered to him anymore. Expect of course Louis, but the boy had made it damn clear months ago that he never actually felt the same. And if that wasn’t precise enough for Harry to understand, he proved it over and over again in the time since.

Sobs wracked through his body- and he when did he even start crying? He can't remember- as he pulled himself of his white comforter and to the bathroom that was attached to his own bedroom. Tears streamed down Harry’s face while he walked up to the cabinet that hung above the sink, taunting him when he opened it.

And it wasn’t like this was a random thought, something that just happened to pop into his brain. No. It was something he had thought about before, usually after times like these when he had scrolled through his timeline, a rarity in his life now.

But the pull was just _so strong_ today _._ He _needed_ to do it. He _had to_.  
  
The broken boy’s- and isn’t that terrible? He’s just a boy and his life has come to this- dull green eyes scanned the cabinet shelves until they landed on what he wanted. He reached up and grabbed the bottle, shaking it and hearing the pills rattle around inside.

_There were enough._

_**vi.** _

The boy absentmindedly twisted open the cap, peering inside before he pulled the bottle back from his eye and looking into the mirror, but not actually _focusing_ on it.

_‘I should write a letter,’_ he thought.

Part of him wondered if it was a little to cliché, but he figured why not- nobody could judge him when he was gone, right? He set the bottle back down, placing it on the bathroom sink edge, careful to not let it fall, and walked back to his bedroom.

He almost robotically walked over to his desk, the one under his single window, pulling out a piece of paper and pen he found in it. He sighed as he sat down and thought, staring off into space for a moment, before he started.

_I’m sure you all saw this coming. You had to. As you all know, or do now since you’re reading this, I never could get over Louis. I’ve always loved him with every part of me, completely. I tried so hard to not, but it’s impossible. Part of me wishes I would’ve never fallen in love so I wouldn’t feel this empty, this emotionless, but I know I deserve it. I’m not good enough to be loved. Louis made that clear._

_Liam, Zayn, and Niall-_

_I’m sorry we couldn’t make up before I left. I’m sorry that sides had to be chosen and we chose different. Thank you for being there for at least part of it, for being the best friends I could have had. You made me laugh and held me when I cried. Thank you. And I’m sorry for what I’m putting you through and the mess you guys are getting dragged into. You might hate me and think I’m selfish, and maybe I am, but I can't do it anymore. I love you guys so much and whatever happened between us, I’m so sorry and I forgive you for whatever you think you need to be forgiven for. I really mean that. Don’t go holding this on your shoulders for the rest of your lives. Especially you, Liam and Niall, I know you’re gonna try to. I love all three of you like brothers and distance never changed that._

_Mum-_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t see you again before I left. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that one of your babies has to go like this. I’ll be watching from heaven and thinking about you every day. Thank you for being the best mum I could have ever had and supporting me in everything. I love you with my whole heart, truly. I’m sorry._

_Gemms-_

_I wish I could’ve spent more time with you. I love you so much and I want you to be happy. Marry that guy you’ve been talking about forever okay? I know you’re madly in love with him and you deserve everything good. And please be there for mum right now. It’s gonna be hard and I’m sorry I can't stay but I can't do this anymore. You are the greatest sister one could have, and I will cherish you from heaven._

_Louis-_

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You probably think I’m pathetic for this, that I couldn’t just move on. I think so too, but I love you so much Louis. Everything you did, everything that broke me- I don’t hate you for it. I could never. You are and always will be the love of my life, and I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to be yours. I love everything about you. Your gorgeous blue eyes, the crinkles by them when you smile, your body, your laugh, the way you push up the glasses on your nose when you're getting into a really good book. I loved when all you wanted to do was cuddle and I still do. I love everything you do and all the flaws that make you even more perfect. Please be happy and I’m sorry if you hate me even more now, but I will always love you, Lou. Forever and always. Goodbye, Boobear._

_I love you all_

_-Haz_

A tear fell from Harry’s eye and landed on the paper, smudging a word of ink as he sat back and set the pen down. He folded up the paper perfectly, setting it on the desk with a paperweight and scrawling out the words _Louis, Liam, Niall, Zayn, Mum, and Gemma_ on the top flap.

Harry stood up, smiling faintly at the little piece of paper, looking so innocent on the desk but holding such heavy thoughts, and walked back into the bathroom. He wasn’t sobbing anymore, but the tears were still streaming down his face. He knew because they were wetting his hoodie. Louis’ actually. Huh.

The boy walked back to the bathroom, picking up the bottle from where he sat it on the counter. Harry smiled sadly, reminiscing as reminders of the life he had lived flashed through his brain like a slide show- just like he had heard about and seen in movies- before he opened the cap for the final time.

He didn’t waste any time in what he knew was the inevitable.

He swallowed the first half of the bottle with water from the tap. The second half had to be forced down, his stomach heaving at the overdose of medication being shoved down his throat, too much to be healthy.

When the bottle was gone, having been nearly full when he started except for the two he had taken a couple days ago to help with a hangover’s headache, Harry walked back to his bed and layed down on the soft comforter. He felt oddly serene and at peace- a false sense of comfort of what was to come- sitting here and waiting to just _go_. He closed his eyes and listened to his beating heart in his chest, the one that was so broken, as it slowed, just tiny palpitations. Harry sighed one more time, his eyelids getting droopy, before they slipped shut, sending him into an un-reversable and never-ending sleep.

_**vii.** _

Paul is the one who finds him. The band had an interview the morning after, eleven o’clock sharp. Their bodyguard and interim father when they were away from home had been the one to retrieve Harry for it.

He stepped up the path to the small flat Harry had moved into a couple months ago. The lights were off throughout the house, nothing new, as Paul walked through the door. He had an odd certain sense of fear in his gut as he walked through the foyer, across the kitchen, and into the hallway that eventually led to the single bedroom.

“Harry?” He called out, opening the door to the office first. It was empty. He checked the unattached bathroom next.

Empty.

Paul carefully made his way towards the bathroom, dread filling his body. _Something was definitely wrong._ He knew it and he didn’t want to find out what.

He finally pushed open the bedroom door, peaking in. “Harry? Are you in h- _holy shit_ ,” Paul cut himself off, gasping in what is best described as horror, panic in the midst of trauma.

Harry was there, but he was lying on the bed motionless. In seconds Paul rushed over to the side of the bed shaking the gone boy frantically. “HARRY! Harry, wake up! This isn’t funny, Wake! Up!”  
  
Paul let out a sob as he stepped back, pulling out his phone and dialing 911. Once the dispatcher had assured him the paramedics were on their way, Paul dropped his phone, not caring if it had shattered or landed softly. He knelt down by Harry again, shoving two fingers down the boy’s throat to try to get him to throw the drugs back up but to no avail.

The next thirty minutes were a blur for him. The paramedics entered the house and found Paul bent over Harry’s lifeless body sobbing. They pulled the man off him, one of the responders holding him tightly while he kept crying as the others checked Harry.

The next thing Paul knew, he was in the back of a wailing ambulance, headed for the hospital with the young popstar on a stretcher in front of him, just lying there. And if it wasn’t for the reality of the situation- how dreadful and gut wrenching it was- Harry could have almost looked peaceful, something that hadn’t shown on his face in months.

-

Coincidently enough, it was pouring down rain when Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn sprinted into the emergency room, disbelief and shock written across their faces and their eyes rimmed red from crying, dried tears on their faces and some still falling.

They were all a wreck, but Louis was the worst. He was distraught, his actions frantic and his eyes darting everywhere trying to take in the overwhelming surroundings and search for answers. He had a sick feeling in the pit of the stomach and all he wanted to do was throw up, but his body wouldn’t let him.

He ran into the waiting room looking for a familiar face, someone to tell him what had happened. Paul walked around a corner as Louis looked over to the same side of the room and they locked eyes. Louis raised his eyebrows hopefully, looking for some kind of expression of possibility, possibility that this might just all be one big nightmare. He was going to wake up soon for a concert or interview or photoshoot, and Harry would be right there by him.

Paul walked towards the group of boys, not saying anything until he was close enough to whisper. He didn’t want his words to come out any harsher than they were already going to sound.

“I-is he…? He’s okay right? You have to tell me he’s okay. He has to be _okay_ ,” Louis begged while he started to pull at his hair with a hand, working himself up as he kept speaking.

Paul was quiet for a moment.

“I- I’m so sorry you guys. I’m so sorry Louis.”

Louis stopped breathing for a second, as did the boys behind him, as he took in the information. Immediately tears started falling down his cheeks again, the other three boys as well, but Louis wasn’t even processing them anymore.

“NO! Don’t _say_ that! You’re lying! He’s okay- _he has to be okay_ \- stop _lying_!” Louis screams at the man who gives him a sympathetic look. Louis lunges at Paul, banging his fists on the man’s chest, not hard enough to hurt him, but to just do _something_. To react _somehow_.

Paul grabbed the boy’s hands and held them so they would stop, pulling the sobbing boy into him. “I’m sorry, Lou. I know. I’m so sorry kiddo.”

“No… _he can't be_ … please- _no_.” the boy whimpered into his chest, shaking his head into his chest. This couldn’t be _real._

-

When Louis had stopped sobbing an hour and a half later, now just in shock and unable to process his own emotions, Paul pulled back and looked at all the boys, reaching his hand to his back pocket to grab something out. “Um. The medics found this in his room. It’s for you guys.”

He held his hand out and waited for the boys to take it. They were all still stuck in disbelief, holding each other and crying. Liam reached out with a sad, tear-filled smile, holding a sobbing Niall in his one arm, and took the folded piece of paper in the free hand. “Thanks.”

Paul nodded in response, rubbing Zayn’s shoulder sympathetically before turning back around and walking back to where he had come from to talk with a nurse.

Liam eventually got the boys into a quieter corner of the lobby, sitting the boys down as they held each other and whimpered. Liam sat down in front of them, beginning to open the letter he was given- Harry’s last recorded thoughts presumably- and held it out in front of all the boys, visible for all of them to read at the same time.

They all read through it, assumedly over and over again by the way each boy would sob in specific intervals, like they were re-reading certain parts that made their hearts ache even more than the rest of the letter did. After they had sat there reading over and over for thirty minutes, completely silent apart from the gut wrenching cries that wracked through the four boys’ bodies, Liam folded the paper back up, but nobody moved. They sat there, silent and frozen, staring off into the busy hospital waiting room but not really looking at anything.

Their minds were elsewhere, focusing on the fact that Harry Styles was forever gone. He wasn’t coming back, and each of them knew they played a part in that, even if their part was not doing anything at all.

But Louis knew deep down inside of him that he was by far the biggest person to be blamed. He had broken Harry; the boy even admitted it in the letter. He had been far too stupid to show how he truly felt, to not be so fucking selfish and be honest for once in his damn life, and now he would never see the boy again. Never hear him laugh and watch his dimple pop out. Never kiss his sweet lips and see those same lips smile softly. He had broken the boy he loved so much, and because of that he was gone forever, in a peaceful sleep that he couldn’t wake up from. Ever.

And so, on that miserable Thursday night, the third of December 2016, twenty-two-year-old Harry Edward Styles had taken his own life.

_**viii.** _

Louis, Liam, Niall, Zayn, Anne, Gemma, Paul, and a few other close family or friends were gathered at the cemetery on December 18 that same year as they lowered the boy who had died too young into the ground, saying a final goodbye.

Louis stared at the tombstone with a blank expression, tears streaming down his face while he ran a finger along the white shining granite. Zayn wrapped his arms around the heartbroken boy, pulling him to his chest from behind as the feather-headed boy let out more sobs.

Louis had been a wreck ever since the day in the hospital. He was barely eating, let alone talking to anyone. He spent almost every moment crying, either that or screaming at the picture of him and Harry from the early X-Factor days, yelling at him for leaving. Yelling at himself for making him want to.

He was constantly scrolling through old pictures of the two, looking at the Larry Stylinson tag on every social media to remind himself of the once bright and beautiful boy.

He had broken up with Eleanor immediately, he didn’t even love her anymore. Honestly didn’t know if he ever did. He had told the world the truth. He was in love with a boy, Harry Styles, his bandmate, best friend, and past lover that had left the earth only weeks prior.

And the whole world was grieving the loss of Harry styles, but no one more than Louis William Tomlinson.

_**ix.** _

The boys were a mess. They were completely broken, the four of them together. It was like the entire world had stopped, and honestly, none of them knew if it ever was going to start spinning again. Part of them didn’t believe it was actually real. They were waiting to wake up from the nightmare and see the bright eyed, curly headed boy again. But whenever one of them woke up the next morning to silence, they cried, sobbed into their pillows until they fell back asleep.

The first two days after the funeral hit hard. The boys locked themselves in each of their rooms and their sobs were heard through the house constantly. It didn’t stop for even a second during the first full forty-eight hours.  
  
The next two days they were angry. They were so mad at Harry for leaving, for not saying something, for hiding away until he was gone. They screamed and yelled, and cried _while_ screaming and yelling.

The final three days of the first week after the funeral, that was when their anger left. They weren’t mad anymore, not at anyone but themselves. It was their fault, at least partially, and they knew that. They weren’t there for the boy, they didn’t try to help him enough. He was the baby, the youngest out of the five, and they hadn’t fought hard enough to save him. They were supposed to protect him, not turn their backs on him for a girl.

-

In the weeks since Harry had gone, flown off to heaven to stay as the angel he truly was, Louis had finally completely and entirely admitted everything he felt to himself. He admitted that he had always loved Harry. That Harry was the love of his life. He had never, and knew he would never, feel for a person more in his life than he had for Harry. His heart ached for the boy and his body just wanted to be in his arms again.

He wanted to see him smile and laugh again, hear his god-awful jokes and laugh at them anyway. He wanted to stare into his green eyes and have them be bright and playful again, not dull and _dead_. Louis wanted to show Harry how much he loved him and treat him like the angel he was, he wanted to be able to love Harry again. Openly.

But it was too late. He was too young to decide what he wanted, too young to make his own choices and not give in the pressure that seemed to be coming from every direction. He was too young, too late, and now Harry was gone forever, just the memory of a pretty boy with a broken heart from the world’s biggest boy band left for the world to grieve over.

_**Finished.** _


End file.
